


cool kids, dumb beats, dead kids

by lovelycherryblondelocks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossdressing, Disillusionment, Heavy Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Innocent Kageyama Tobio, M/M, Promiscuity, Unrequited Love, Virgin Kageyama Tobio, a very self-idulgent fic, i have a thing for anything red, implied foursome, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 11:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelycherryblondelocks/pseuds/lovelycherryblondelocks
Summary: Kei, Tobio instantly learns, is the centre of attention. The quintessential exception. The only Kei there is and ever will be.He walks in branded shoes and swims in the affection of men.Tobio comes to St. Clouds of Austen living the same life he lives.Or, After being offered a scholarship Tobio cannot decline, he meets a man too pretty to resist. It costs him more than a few red stains on the lips.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Kageyama Tobio & Tsukishima Kei, Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 21
Kudos: 77





	cool kids, dumb beats, dead kids

**Author's Note:**

> After a month of inactivity, I finally completed another fic. This is very self-indulgent and I'm unsure if it would be to your interest. Nevertheless, I still wish to share it with you and hope that you will have another good read. 
> 
> This story is yet to be edited. Please forgive any overlooked corrections. <3

The last Tobio sees of Kei, he poses an ugly, _ugly_ painting. His skin is marred, festering all over.  
  
He kindles a match and burns the dim with the blaze of his half-finished cigar.

(There is blue on his skin, a cup of liquor in his hands. His bare toes are on the ground – one sip, and down the troubles go.)

Shadows prey on the weary and cast Tobio a morose look. There is no noise but the eery hush of muted whispers. He stares ahead, plagued by the lure of a mirror. And when he inches, toes close to a dangling edge, what meets him is a hollow gaze.

 _"I'm not you."_ He greets the other.

The chasm sneers, a dismal glare for the sinful.

 _"But you will be."_ It warns.

(He has red paint on each nail, a drag of red stain on his sealed lips and the sag of a grizzled maiden – he takes another inhale, and again cancer spreads.)

Tobio dares another step, a squint to taunt the ire. The quiet hisses.

_"Everybody wants to be Kei."_

Dread fills the haunted breeze and prowls on the unaware. Tobio staggers in his haste and feels his stomach fester. He blinks idly through the awry mist of rising dawn.

In the void, a phantom grins. Dimmer than the emptiness. Grimmer than before.

_"Everyone wants to be Kei."_

The chant repeats.

(His skin is a blank canvas, with a tint of blood on his torn sleeves – one deep breathto thaw the coldness.)

Tobio peers from the thorns of frayed flowers, where the same ghostly gaze glints at him with mischief.

_"Careful Tobio,"_

Tsukishima Kei basks in the warmth of yet another rumpled sheet, white slick in his thighs and black ashes on his bed. Tobio drowns in the pull of the abyss and lies a hapless fool, beneath the shade of his glower – and into the dark.

_"You don't growl at the wolf."_

🌹

St. Clouds of Austen is a den for wolves.

A sickly veil covers this troubled place, fraught with dread and peril. Phantoms lurk deep within the crevices of even its most lonesome avenues, eager to haunt the unaware. Fiends too, slither through the rusting pillars of barren edifices and stalk the meek, never one to still.

This relentless murk is what plagues the city. Not a pause lingers to bask in its tranquil horror. Haste is a treasure among the residents. Haste is a luxury. Because in this den, no one is safe.

In this den, the wolves are never full.

Tobio had heard of the warnings before he'd known of the city. Many, _many_ tales of misadventures surround the place. Sex. Alcohol. Clubs. All sorts of juvenile misdemeanours. A dance in the blinking dancefloors, in the colourful glow of bitter drinks, in the sheets, where the dull twinkle of the stars and the din of the outside could be smothered by the lust-filled play of scarlet lips against lips – it was as if the place was a host to ruckuses too distant from the chaste world.

And though the stories it held vary, they remain a constant reminder of what Tobio had been raised to never do. To never follow.

The elders believed he was no fit for a place like that, for a world too _loose_. A corrupt city was no good for any country kid – as what they always preach.

St. Clouds of Austen just so happens to be the epitome of corruption. A prime example of everything _immoral_.

The City of Debauchery. Home of the Empty. Hell's greatest temptation.

If not for the perpetual gloom, the place could have been burning in the flames of its sins.

Tobio had heard of the warnings before he had decided to dismiss them. A pitiful decision, he knows. But any penniless student in desperate need of education wouldn't dare miss a chance for one. _No matter the setting._

Tobio _was_ no risktaker. Still, any sort of offer as scarce and sporadic as his family's wealth was nowhere worth the indecision. A good school. A new place. A life away from the restraints of tradition – how addleheaded could one be to deny themselves of that?

 _To squander is to sin._ Tobio is neither moneyed nor asinine to yield to a couple of manageable predicaments.

"You having a good time?"

–such predicaments include conceding to a roommate's invitation for a ' _sweet jolly little night out'_.

"Just fine."

–and such predicaments involve him, a glass of weirdly-coloured liquor and a crowd of grinding bodies.

So yes, Tobio is _just fine_. And no, Tobio is the least bit regretful.

"Come on grumpy, you gotta free your instincts and go wild."

Tobio glares at the cause of his suffering. He takes a sip, another pungent substance for his throat to drain. "My instincts tell me I shouldn't be here."

Kuroo-san breathes out a hoarse cackle. It resounds loud enough to battle the blast of the stereos. "Then don't trust 'em."

He winks a winsome wink, charming enough to woo the ladies but sly enough to render Tobio sceptical. The man tuts as he gently thrusts another drink into Tobio's sight. It glimmers a luminescent blue glow, more peculiar than the last beverage he'd been forced to imbibe.

"You just gotta the drink the inhibitions away, kiddo."

Tobio scrunches his nose. He takes the drink with less reservation. They say if you dip in your toes long enough to see the ripples bubble, the lure would latch on and catch you with its fangs. Kuroo-san surely had that lure expertly perfected. The man has his comely face to thank for that.

"Tobiooooo-kun ~ drink some more!"

Another suave, vivacious tempter emerges from the mist of huddled bodies. He clings to Kuroo-san's shoulder, intent on leaning his full weight against the other. Tobio watches intently how each muscle flexes as Bokuto-san hands him a bottle. It glistens a stark red, close to red blood but rustic.

"Looks poisonous," He comments. He had just finished the fiery booze Kuroo-san had given him. Tobio purses his lips as he eyes the new offer, already anticipating Kuroo-san's sage tips of wisdom. _If it looks poisonous, that means it's good! –_ something all heavy drinkers promise. Tobio shouldn't believe so easily, but his throat is parched and his mind is in dire need of abstraction –anything to blur the image of shameless couples smacking lips across his table.

So he takes the bottle and downs its content in one gulp. _There goes a portion of his reason._

Bokuto-san hollers at him from the background. He lands a slap on Kuroo-san's back, grinning heartily, "Your persuasion skills really work on almost anyone!"

The man grunts under the weight of muscles. "You're fucking heavy."

"Not like you ain't into that." Bokuto teases.

Tobio huffs at them and reaches out for another bottle, lids sluggish and fingers spry. Sensing his discomfit, Kuroo-san chides him with a swift flick to the forehead.

"Easy sips now, kiddo. The rest of the gang ain't here yet. We don't want you slurring your words now, do we?"

The _gang_. Kuroo-san and his notorious drinker's club. Tobio only knows an infinitesimal detail about them, and frankly, it's worth less than the spare of liquid in his glass. He hasn't really put much effort into knowing things (if the stack of unread books on his desks were anything to go by) but Tobio is _acquainted_ (forced to socialise) with three of the gang's members.

He knows the raucous Bokuto-san, has heard bits and pieces about a pretty guy named Akaashi, and to his misfortune, knows more of the obnoxious, hell-raising Kuroo-san —the rest, he's willingly ignorant about. Judging from the superficial preferences of these men, Tobio can confidently surmise their peers to be of exceptional attractiveness. They must be well-known too. Perhaps some even work as models.

Though, as much as their names fill most of the chatters of the city, faces hailed as godlike and unchallenged, Tobio finds that he is neither curious nor interested enough to see them be proven true or otherwise. After all, he'd only agreed to his cousin to please the man and his insatiable need to bring out the _fun_ in everything and everyone (most especially sulky, grouchy unsociable people).

If Tobio were to take another chug to amuse the man's philosophies of _fun_ , he would be downing more than a few cases of beer. Kuroo-san may be smart but his definition of fun sure is not. Kuroo-san, despite his debonair appeal and touching politeness, is not an advocate of safety. His _fun_ is lethal drinks and nightly parties. His _fun_ is trivial flings and midnight shenanigans. His _fun_ means danger.

Tobio's face sours at the memory of his cousin's strings of mischief. The reckless mishaps, licentious engagements and near-encounters with prison cells –how he lived to twenty-two with only his dumb luck is beyond Tobio. But then again, he wasn't any better for indulging some of the other's conniving plans. This instance may be an exceptional reference to that.

Oh well, Tobio is not responsible for everything his cousin does. But Kuroo-san _is_ obliged to take care of his inebriated ass (of course, Tobio is only supposing his alcohol tolerance).

"I gotcha' buddy, I won't let you out of my sight. Promise."

Kuroo-san makes a farce display of sincerity. Tobio easily sees through it and shoots him a hostile glare.

"As if." He challenges, chin tipped and arms folded. The man could ditch his ass in no time if he found a pretty guy worth his amusement.

"I'm telling ya, my eyes are on you for the night. I can't have my baby cousin disappearing on me on the most special moment of my life."

Tobio scoffs as Bokuto-san's weight plops beside his shoulder. "How is this night any different for you? You always claim every night to be your best night."

"That's because Kei is coming." Bokuto-san bounces with unconcealed zeal. He throws a hand behind Tobio, enveloping him in a side-embrace as he proceeds to ramble about the exceptionality of this _blonde siren_ – a habit of his to make up creative endearments. Tobio listens on without intending to, as if forced to invest in the man's chatters. Bokuto-san is ceaselessly smitten when it comes to this siren, it seems. He talks without rest. He tells Tobio why Kei matters. Why Kei is none like the other. Why he rules over the city despite the biting frost of his words and caustic jests he poses to foolish men.

 _Kei_ , Tobio instantly learns, is the centre of attention. The quintessential exception. The only Kei there is and ever will be. Or so the Bokuto-san says. Tobio is still unsure. Given the man's proclivity to fawn over anything, his words did not seem to carry much promise.

Kuroo-san is a contradiction. Kuroo-san is the epitome of unreachable standards. He does not drool over people easily. He surveys them. He pins them with unbridled judgement and examines their flaws as if they were trifling paragraphs to be read. He makes and takes points for every detail. A point for an article of clothing, for a pair of green eyes and smooth skin. A point for scars, blemishes and bland shoes. The world, as Kuroo-san sees it, is meant to be scrutinised in numbers.

 _This_ Kei, however, defies the standards in ways Tobio has never seen anyone defy Kuroo-san's unconventional ideal. _This_ Kei Bokuto-san praises restlessly defines himself in words Tobio has never heard anyone deny.

And such a _Kei_ stands before him, a mere five feet away from where he sits a gawking halfwit.

Glittery cheeks, silver skin and feathery locks of gold, each curling finely at the tips. A pair of blazing orbs and scarlet lips –

Tsukishima Kei, Tobio instantly learns, **_is_** the centre of attention. Entertainment's prime seduction.

"Finally!" He hears Kuroo-san's raspy sigh cut through his distant musings. Tobio swiftly averts his gaze to the floor, chided by his own surprise. He shifts in his seat as Bokuto-san bounces to stride towards the sea of people and hopes, _dearly_ hopes no one has caught him staring.

The last bits of freedom Tobio has over the seat wanes into a pitiful squeak of protest. Tobio squirms tensely at the intrusion of bodies squeezing themselves into his space. He hides a grimace behind the brim of his glass, casting fleeting peeks at a streak of red from his right, a blurred simper from his left and the glint of gold just right across.

"New kid?" The redhead asks.

"My baby cousin," Tetsurou supplies.

"Good faces run in the family, I see."

Tobio nibbles on the inside of his cheek. He flushes, feeling the heat of curious eyes peering straight into his soul. An exaggeration, Tobio knows. But it sure as hell feels like it.

"So," Another arm hangs itself on Tobio's arched shoulders. "What's the name, pretty boy?"

"Tobio."

Amidst the deafening rings of heavy beats, Tobio hears unfamiliar lips utter his name. He flinches at the call, ears accosted by the sudden drop of cacophonies. What meets his faltering gaze is a blank stare.

"Kageyama Tobio," Tsukishima tilts his head as he speaks, one leg over the other. The strap of his black heels sways, as nonchalantly as the lilt of his voice. "That's you, right?"

"You know each other?" Kuroo-san grumbles his surprise. His eyes flit curiously between the two.

Tobio answers him with startled silence, just as baffled. "I-I didn't know about him until...now." He whispers the end of his sentence as if to mean apologetic.

"No worries," The young man untangles his legs from their lax fold. Sleek, skin-tight leather pants gleam under the blinks of coloured lights. With the sluggish flutter of his lashes, Kei bites on the edge of his cup. "I kind of assumed you'd remember me. Pity, I _really_ enjoyed your company."

"You guys fucked?" A silver-haired man gapes at them in amusement. It's Lev. Tobio recognises him from one of his Tuesday classes. "Kei, you're a _pro_ -whore, aren't ya?"

"We didn't!" Tobio squawks indignantly. His voice's volume catches the group's attention. "I-I don't do stuff like that. I never –"

"I met him at a party once," Kei explains smoothly. "Bambi looked like he needed company so I offered him mine. Probably should have stopped him on his third drink though."

"Party?" Kuroo-san turns to Tobio, befuddled. "I thought you didn't like parties? Since when did you go to parties on your own?"

"I didn't." Tobio hisses, nape reddening. "Hinata begged me to come to his boyfriend's party." He dares a peek at Tsukishima, "I can't really remember much about what happened."

"I can tell you about it if you want to." A thin, lofty shadow towers over Tobio. He lifts his chin, struck by the sudden greeting of a coy, friendly smile. Tsukishima waves an empty glass in front of his sight. Tobio notes the stain of his lipstick on the clear, transparent edge. "I'm gonna get everyone drinks, wanna come with me?"

Tobio takes the offered hand without question. He feels the prickle as each finely-manicured nail digs into his palm. Compelled by the strings of neon glow, Tobio finds himself whisked away.

🌹

"I know you."

"You do?"

"I think...I think I met you elsewhere."

The bottles clink. Tobio stares ahead as he drains another liquor.

"Tell me, Tobio. Have you ever growled at the wolf?"

Tobio blinks, throat barren of any sounds. He nods a _no_ andhitches at the scalding caress crawling up his elbows.

"Want me to show you?" The lulling voice offers _again_.

Tobio clenches his palm around the absence of a bottle. He feels the emptiness even as Tsukishima twines their fingers. Not an ounce of novelty.

They tread the misty grounds with nothing in their hands but their own. The crowd parts for them until they reach the centre, where fog meets grey and eyes are set ablaze.

A stranger's chest hovers close to his back. Hands on his waist, tongue on his nape. Grind and grunt. Tsukishima has his own company to amuse. Eager fingers inching closer and closer to his navel, his chest, his neck – men breathing into both their ears as they face each other, as they grip each other, as _Kei_ arches and Tobio follows, necks bared and free from their restraints.

Tobio stares at him and _Kei_ stares back. Like a mirror. Lost in the image of the other.

"Easy there, pretty." _His_ stranger whispers. "We have all night."

Tobio revels in the touch of another man. Lids sealed and lips parted.

Kuroo-san is right. Tobio is free. Tobio is curious. And Tobio would be damned to misspend his youth on a case of unneeded hesitation. Tobio feels the hold tighten on his hips. He hangs on the man's shoulders and invites him for a kiss.

The drinks never come.

St. Clouds of Austen is truly a den for wolves.

🌹

Tobio wakes up a soggy mess. The piercing glare of the sun judges his unlikely tardiness with immense disapproval. He hears the grumbles of his ancestors through the cries of his alarm – nagging about wasted time and cursing the reckless youth. Not that Tobio does any of the two often, but he does feel appalled by the twinkling _1:30_ on his phone.

"Had a good sleep?"

Kuroo-san pats a sore spot on Tobio's back. Tobio winces from the touch, breathing out a scratchy hiss as he sits up to greet the other.

"What happened?"

Kuroo-san chuckles. He hands him a drink and pinches his puffed cheeks. "You were trashed as hell last night. I had to drag your ass to home because you couldn't stop clinging to _Oiks_."

Tobio squints at the name, face scrunching in confusion. "Clinging? _Oiks_? Who?"

"You serious?" The man gapes at him, dumbstruck. "Brown hair? Tall guy? Pretty boy but shitty on the inside?" He pauses as Tobio answers him with puzzled silence. Kuroo-san heaves a big breath, " _Oh honey_ , you stuck your tongue down the guy's throat, you fucking dry-humped each other –how could you not remember?"

Tobio blinks. He stills for a few good minutes before stammering out a flustered protest, "I-I didn't! I wouldn't! That-s not-"

"Something you'd do?" Kuroo-san continues for him. He sighs stiffly as he leans on the headboard, brushing his broad shoulder against Tobio's slender ones. "It's something Kei would."

"What do you mean?" Tobio's forehead creases. He hears the strain in the man's voice as he speaks.

"Kei dragged you to the dance floor, didn't he? You wouldn't have gone on your own even if you were tipsy."

Tobio fiddles with the loose ends of his sleeves. A scathing objection sits at the pit of his stomach, urging him to take defence. He knows what his cousin wants to say, he _understands_ the implications. _But_ ,

"It was _my_ choice. I could have easily declined." Tobio insists. "I-it's not something I normally do and I hope I wouldn't do it again but..." His confidence stirs and withers into another fumble, "I don't blame him for it."

Kuroo-san makes a noise of disagreement. His lips move again but no sound comes. With an unsure palm, the man begins to press on his nape. The hum of his silence drags on to a cumbersome hesitation.

"Okay." The older concedes. "I– _yeah_ , yeah it was _your_ choice. Just... be careful next time."

Tobio nods thoughtfully at his warning. A trace of suspicion pervades heavily in the thin air.

Kuroo-san ruffles his hair and pushes himself back to the ground. _Be careful of him_ , the dreary hush whispers, as if to scare.

The weight of his unspoken caution pulls Tobio back to his sheets, where he lies idly and scarce of focus. Tobio is peeved by the man's wariness. Had he misheard Kuroo-san's words before? Perhaps he'd mistaken the admiration in the man's eyes when he'd talked about Kei.

Tobio carries the plague of his questions. The worry festers into something more cryptic, something daunting enough to make his stomach lurch all afternoon. And he before he even realises it, haze remained in his sight until dusk.

By the early evening, Kuroo-san finally convinces him out of their shared room. Tobio finds himself accosted by a boisterous company.

"How's last night for ya, baby cousin?" Bokuto-san welcomes him with two wide arms, firm and much too accustomed.

"I'm not your cousin," Tobio replies to him flatly. He huffs a drowsy groan, tormented by the soreness in his muscles. "What are you even doing here? Don't you have practice or something?"

"It's a rest day, dummy." Bokuto-san jokingly squeezes his nose. Tobio swats his hand away and sends the man into a stumble. "Hey now, I just wanted to check up on you. You still look pretty hammered. Was Kuroo a bad caretaker?"

"Slightly passable," Tobio answers absently. He takes his seat behind the counter, nose deep in the veil steam of his warm drink. _Milk chocolate,_ just as how his mother would always prepare.

Kuroo-san scolds him with a scoff, fresh out of the shower and barely dressed. He hangs a towel on his head and mutters through a mouthful of apple, "I'm the best caretaker in this city."

"I'm sure you are." Bokuto-san snickers. "Nice biceps, by the way."

The man blows him a kiss, slamming the fridge shut with a lighter force. Again, they battle each other's advances, throwing compliments more shameless than the last. Tobio's face morphs into one of distaste, a pained grimace for their flirtatious display. Not one to find amusement in their questionable _friendship-more-than-friendship_ , he loudly munches on a spoonful of cereal as a silent reproach.

"Killjoy," His cousin, ever the petulant actor, sticks out his tongue in retaliation. "You should be treating us better, ya know? If it weren't for us, you wouldn't have any chastity left to protect."

Tobio reddens at the reminder. He tightens his grip around his cup, curling his body inward with great discomfort. The embarrassment seethes into his skin. Still fazed beyond comprehension, Tobio could only purse his lips and bury his head in the comforts of his oversized hoodie. 

"There, there." Bokuto-san cajoles him out of the gloom. "Take it as a learning experience to not dance with Kei. That guy's a great seducer, I tell you. He once persuaded me into jumping into a pool as a dare. The water was fucking cold as hell and I had to do it butt-naked. _Butt-naked._ Do you know how much that sucks?"

Kuroo-san guffaws almost immediately at the memory. "Kei's got a way with words. Even Keiji fails to say no to him."

"Sounds like he's got a tight hold on you guys," He lets out the words almost casually as if it were an unfunny jest for the crickets to applaud. He's mistaken a moment later. The warm breeze dies down quickly as Kuroo-san stiffens, limbs almost immovable against the marbled island. Tobio, not one to relish the obscurity, begins to conclude the unthinkable. "D-do...you like him?"

His question hangs in the languid air, where no other noise erupts to comfort the awkwardness. Still, Tobio waits patiently for a response. He sees as Kuroo-san drums a finger on the counter's edge. He hears as Bokuto-san breathes through his parted lips with a barely-there exhale. Tobio feels both of them dither.

"Yeah..." Kuroo-san says, mumbling a confession laden with the tenderest, most saccharine sincerity. And yet there still remains a hint of dread in his tone, almost as if the man had long feared the judgement of his admission.

"W-we, _uh_ , both like him."

"Oh." Tobio murmurs softly at the honesty. _Be careful of him_ – the warning resonates in his mind. Tobio gives himself a mental slap. He recalls his cousin's gestures, seemingly sincere with his emotions, almost lovestruck that Tobio fears he's another man– and now Tobio only realises the blatant mockery he'd shown him. Tobio danced with the subject of his –no, _their_ affection. Tobio is a bitch, it seems.

"But he doesn't like us, so..." Kuroo-san continues, unaware of the emotional turmoil in his cousin's mind. His tone evinces a slip of diffidence, near cynical.

Bokuto-san is less subdued, he holds a balmy smile – the spitting image of every smitten man.

" _Yet_." He says, more hopeful. "He doesn't like us _yet_."

Tobio, drawn by his buoyant charm, regards him with a small, elated smile. "I'm rooting for you guys."

He notices how his cousin sags in relief, schooling his expression into a feigned steely face. Tobio has never seen the man so worried before. He has never seen him falter and stumble on anything. Distantly, he marvels at the rare display of vulnerability in the man's expression. Tobio hopes he could see more of it be freely shown.

Whatever magic Tsukishima has over these men, it _bewitches_.

🌹

He meets the man in the most inconspicuous corner of the campus library one blue Monday morning. Tsukishima boasts his mastered grace, chin tipped with little evidence of last night in his being. His gaze is a blank yellow and lips a shiny scarlet. His clothes a range of earthly tones and skin a healthy shine. The corners of his eyes are lined with precise wings, curled right at the tip where the long lashes unfurl. Pastel on the lids' edges and glitter on the front – just like the maidens Tobio's father loved to sketch. Oh, the joys of being exceptional. How nice would it be to live like that?

Tsukishima exists to flaunt. He does it without even trying.

"You'll burn your eyes staring like that." A voice disrupts his musings with a guiltless lilt. Shadows creep from behind Tobio and jolt him back into focus.

Tobio pivots clumsily as he faces the new noise, torn between floundering and scowling at his unexpected guest. Tendou, he recognises, calmy gestures at him to settle down.

"Wanna join?" Tendou-san plays with the pitch of his voice.

"No thanks. I was just passing by, but I have to go now –"

"Nonsense. You can spare us a minute of your time, can't you?"

Tobio shakes his head. "I really shouldn't –"

"Hush now," Tendou-san says. He faces Tobio, presenting him a devious smile. His hands land on the younger's uneasy shoulders, locking a sturdy hold on each. Not a minute after, Tobio is dragged to the blonde's corner, his captor's gait looking every bit unbothered. Secretly, Tobio laments at the man's lack of tact. He mourns over the lost chance to decline, cursing the heavens as an addition. And in three, perfect strides, Tobio finally concedes to the inevitable.

Tsukishima regards their entrance with one raised brow, cheeks stuck to his palm and ears pressed against an earbud. He takes a long moment of repose, composing a melody with the sharp taps of his painted nails against the pallid pages of his book. _Doubtful_. Tsukishima looks at Tobio like his only intention is to doubt his presence. Definitely a stark contrast from the familiarity he had been treated with last night.

"Do you need something?"

His blunt welcome elicits a halfhearted chuckle from Tendou-san.

"Figured you might need a little distraction."

Tsukishima hums, disinterested. He casts Tobio a flat look. "And you?"

Tobio flinches, out of speech.

"Now, now. Don't act like you didn't enjoy his company last night." Tendou-san urges Tobio to sit just across the blonde. Tobio obliges abstractedly, only to blink with a mute fright as his knees brush against the man.

"Pardon his rudeness, Tobio-kun. He's just a little cranky today because he didn't get some."

Tobio colours a bashful pink. Tsukishima simply frowns at the older's crude words and berates him with another monotone hum. Tobio does not meet the other's gaze, but he feels a heat ignite in them.

"At least some people did." Tsukishima teases. He flips another page, feigning innocence. "Neh Tobio-san, was Oikawa-san good to you?"

"Nothing happened." Tobio quickly objects, a little more prepared than he thought himself capable. Tsukishima lifts a finger from his cheek, just as impressed by his insistence. Gingerly, Tobio continues, "Kuroo-san took me home right after my sixth trip to the bathroom – thankfully."

"Funny," Tendou-san says. "Most guys would've jumped at the chance to lie and boast about having sex with _oh-so-great_ Oikawa. But you seem so hellbent on denying it."

Tobio figures the same. The image he has of the man is slightly muddled, but Tobio knows better than to undermine anyone in this place. If he were someone else, perhaps a guy of the free-spirited sorts, he wouldn't have minded what happened. But Tobio is Tobio, and he is more inclined to his reservations. He doesn't do loveless engagements. He isn't one for lying either. Tobio just finds them confusing - unnecessary, even.

As if having read his thoughts, Tsukishima shifts again and sends him a wide smile. Murk lingers in his crinkled eyes, detached.

"I must say, your innocence is envious."

Tendou-san snorts. "Of course you'd say that. Be careful of this guy, Tobio-kun. He might just be the big bad wolf your grandma told you to look out for. "

"You and your metaphors." Tsukishima sneers. But he does it with a subtle jaunt, responding actively to the lighthearted jabs thrown at him our of pure fun.

Tobio sits more laxly now, senses aligned to the thinning strain of the ambience. He bears a smile too, albeit smaller. "I just want my first to be special." With a stretch, he frees himself of the pressure, sure that he wouldn't be judged for his values. "Besides, it's not like he would have agreed to it too. I heard from Kuroo-san he has some unreasonable standards."

"He does." Tsukishima closes his book shut. He pins a stray strand as he reclines against his chair, the taunt of red once again in plain view. "But once and a while, he makes an exception."

Tobio gives him a strange look. Partly wary and fully invested. "An exception?"

"Say, Tobio." Tsukishima leans forward, three handbreadths away from Tobio's face. "You think you're going to make a good one?"

The rest of Tobio's questions sink back in careful defiance. Tobio swallows air, nodding promptly to the challenge.

🌹

"Is this really necessary?"

Tobio stares at his reflection, struck by a face too foreign. Tinges of brown and red dust along the ends of his lids, paired with golden tones. The dark contrast of mascara pulls his lashes just right to the sides, where two streaks of lines trace along the shape of his wide eyes. His colourless complexion comes with the flush of pink on both cheekbones. A glitter of silver sits at the top of each, almost luminescent under the glare of the bathroom lights.

" _More_ than necessary."

Tsukishima twirls another lock of Tobio's hair. He clips the strand with a rose-coloured pin, the same colour as the flimsy, billowy shirt Tsukishima had lent him. The fabric hangs a little lowly on his shoulders, its sharp neckline falling a tad bit too loosely for his liking. Still, Tobio cannot deny the way his collars gleam from the exposure. Even his neck, used to the cosy company of long collars and tacky scarves, are paraded almost alluringly to the prying eyes of passing guests.

"Done." Tsukishima straightens Tobio's shoulders with a warm and steady clasp around his elbows. He looks at Tobio in the mirror, returning the other's surprise. They stand in silence, daunted by the uncanny resemblance of their reflections.

"I look..." _like you_ , Tobio wants to say.

Tsukishima smiles at him. The sort of smile he wears as an accessory. "Amazing, right? You might not be only getting one person's attention tonight."

" _Wha_ \- I! Well, _uhm_..." Tobio feels his skin tingle. With a taciturn mumble, he corrects, "I only want his... or something like that."

His _friend's_ breath hovers close to his nape. Tobio belatedly realises the scant proximity of their bodies.

"You're so pure I feel like they're going to prey on you." Tsukishima leans a chin on his right shoulder, grinning prettily from ear to ear. There's a change in him. Tonight, Tsukishima is jolly and zestful, brimming with unbottled verve. Tobio recounts the Tsukishima he held a conversation with that morose Monday morning, in the secluded recesses of the worn library walls – not a remnant of _that_ same Tsukishima stands before him now.

Tonight, Tsukishima is alive. Just a distant image of the lonesome, ashen man from yesterday.

"Who's they?" Tobio knits his newly-shaped brows.

A dark tint of fervour plays on _Kei's_ gaze. He pulls on Tobio's sleeves, urging him to face back. Tobio follows the drag of his fingers and feels the warm, tender brush of red lipstick on his lips.

"The wolves silly." _Kei_ whispers, wintry like the evening's breeze. "Don't forget you're in their den."

"You —" _Are you one of them?_

"We should go." _Kei_ cautions with the drop of his pitch. "I heard Oikawa came earlier this time. He must be waiting for someone, don't you think?"

Tobio flattens the tight pleats of his pants. He ganders at the mirror one last time, where he sees the stain of red _sink_ into his skin.

"Okay, _okay_." Without meaning to, he lets himself repeat _Kei's_ words. "We should go."

He hears his breathing stutter as Kei takes his hand again. The door they exit to snicks, almost screeching to the same rhythm as their heels. Just as they finally make their entrance to the narrow hallways, chests thumping and pounding and jerking, the music begins to augment. They carry a sound reminiscent of zealous high school kids whining about the stern authority and preaching about breaking the rules. _Same old spirited nobodies, Same old lyrics, and same old pumped-up rebellion._

Frivolous notes are thrown around artlessly, ricocheting against the cushioned walls. Tobio takes it all in with the strut of his hips. Left. Right. Sway then swagger. Tobio is unfettered. He is set adrift in the sea of _manic_ bodies. To the centre. To the front —

And right in the arms of another stranger.

"Tobio-chan?'

Or a _not_.

Tobio fudges out of instinct. His heels scrape against the floor, stumbling into a clumsy halt. All the boost of liquor drains away from Tobio's bones. The flair in his movements wilts faster than the fleeting lights and all at once, Tobio finds himself unsure.

"I didn't think I'd see you again here."

Tobio blinks. "Why wouldn't you?"

The man chuckles. His hold on Tobio stays uncertain. "Kuroo said you aren't one for parties."

"They sounded trivial," Tobio says. "But I can see the appeal now."

"And you liked it so much that you came back?" Oikawa poses.

Tobio sways again. The man is more assertive this time, and he grips on Tobio's waist with a little more effort. "Kind of."

"Kind of?" Oikawa leads him to a wider, less-cramped corner. His fingers press into the dips of Tobio's hips. A subtle permission lags in the air and pushes Tobio closer into the touch.

"I came for you." Tobio mumbles easily. He fights back a hiccup. The lull of his words slur.

His company holds back a startled laugh. Oikawa hides a grin behind a glass of beer, shying away from a sweet moment of enjoyment. Tobio frowns at the secrecy. He leans on the other's hold, one hand on a rigid shoulder and the other on Oikawa's wrist.

"Kei – _hic_ , said I'd make a good exception. Do I? I do right?" Tobio whines out his question. He misses another step and almost falls on the thin frame of his shoes.

"Kei?" The man raises a brow. "You're drunk aren't you?"

"A little." Tobio hiccups again. "But that's beside the point. So... what do you think? Will I make a good exception?"

Something bubbles in the air. It stinks a bit like vomit and sweat, but the saccharine taste of liquor mingles well enough with the place to cover the stifling scent of booze. It's Oikawa's, Tobio acknowledges. He latches on the whiff of citrus, the smell strong enough to stir something in Tobio's stomach.

Oikawa fails to notice the blatant sniffing. He rubs soothing circles on the younger's hips, hair flowing freely from the blast of windy stereos.

"I think..." The man inches closer, nose just atop Tobio's. "You need to sober up with some fresh air, Tobio-chan."

Tobio deflates. " _Oh_. You don't want me."

He gets instantly corrected. "I never said that." Oikawa casts his drink aside, giving the man's waist his full attention. "Do you want get out of here?"

"What for?" Tobio asks with furrowed eyebrows.

Oikawa shrugs jokingly. Even when he jests, he makes it look appealing. "I don't know. Maybe get some coffee or something."

"But why?"

"Because I like you and you're being a dense idiot right now?"

Tobio stumbles. "You like me?"

The older pinches a strand of Tobio's hair. He twines a finger, eyes playful.

"Why not? You make a good exception, Tobio-chan." Oikawa links their hands, gentle and loose as if to mean Tobio has every right to refuse.

Tobio stares as each knuckle protrudes, he traces them with shy caresses and feels callouses beneath brush against his skin. He clasps his hands around the other, and for the second time around, Tobio is whisked by the lure of another man.

🌹

Oikawa does not take him out for coffee. He takes him for a ride to the city's sleepy uphill trails, far from its bustle where no shadows permeate. Where the hostile, dense gloom dissipates and reshapes itself into a clear, open horizon. Tobio, for the few weeks he has lived in the city, now only sees blue spread over the night. It's splattered with specks and clusters of lights. more sublime than the flashing ones of St. Clouds of Austen.

Haste evades this place. It is a reservoir of the discarded quiet of the city. A drowsy, restful outcast of the night. There is no party to bombard its hush, or music to scare its calm - just the wind that blows on Tobio's face and the little notes of their currents. It was the first Tobio knew the touch of Austen's breeze and he revels in them just as a child would in the embrace of their mothers.

Tobio is flying. His arms out and stretched, heart pumped and head out of the mist. No more alcohol in his veins. No more cramped, sweat-filled spaces. No more weight on him but his own.

It's just Tobio in a fast car, air in his grasp, flying up and up and _up_ into the sky.

"You're gonna fall, Tobio-chan."

A hand travels to his waist, then down beneath the covers of his paper-thin sleeves. Tobio swallows a gasp, arching out of instinct to invite the press of scalding strokes. Oikawa is trailing further and further up, drawing circles on parts Tobio himself rarely touches. The fingers are once again on him, on his ribs, counting and tapping, then on his chest, grazing and brushing but never close to the buds. Again and again, they move, tracing Tobio in ways he has never allowed anyone to. Each fingertip leaves him with a blot, dousing him in red.

When they pull to a stop, somewhere deep in the dim illuminated only by the same flares, the hand slithers further. They halt on his lips, the smear of red dripping, parting them with a tickle.

"You're gonna fall, Tobio-chan." This time, Oikawa sings it to him like a warning. Then with a dip, Tobio feels lips on his.

Tobio does not hear anything else but the strum of his own heartstrings.

🌹

Morrow comes faster than the tracks of Oikawa's car. And before Tobio knew it, he found himself deep in the comforts of his blankets with a bottle and painkillers on his nightstand.

Kuroo-san leaves him with a note of assurance, something to keep Tobio from letting his jittery imagination run wild of the possibilities.

 _'Chastity intact.'_ The note reads.

Tobio is conflicted between dunking himself in cold water and indulging in the relief of another mishap prevented. He goes with the latter, downing the last fragments of his remorse in his conscience. Tobio will have none of that today. He is appeased for now. There is no need for him to feel ill for having fun. His reckless fun may have overstayed its welcome but it still pales in comparison to Kuroo-san's standards.

He only had just a few beers, and an hour of kisses. Tobio is going to be just _fine_.

_Chastity intact. Chastity intact. Chastity intact -_

"Done sulking your regrets away?"

Tobio jumps from the covers of his sheets, frantically searching for the new presence in his room. He whips his head towards the door's thresholds. Whatever drowsy fog lingered in his eyes disappeared without delay as Tobio sees Tsukishima's figure.

"What are you doing here?" Tobio's voice tugs at the last syllable, croaking.

Tsukishima throws him another bottle of water. It's cold, damp in Tobio's hands. Much like the other's colourless tone.

"Get dressed. Kuroo-san told me to treat you somewhere nice. Said I had to take responsibility for the nightly _troubles_ my invites have caused you."

Tobio narrows his eyes sceptically. "I'm not a kid."

His protest earns him a tenuous huff. "It's what I told him. But since you're free and I have time, we might as well make the best of it."

"You're taking me somewhere?"

"For lunch." Tsukishima answers. He makes his way to Tobio's closet, ransacking the racks for clothes. The search lags a little, Tobio's clothes looking every bit banal. Tobio could hear the whirring in Tsukishima's mind. He must have found them tasteless too.

"Your clothes suck."

"You don't have to tell me." Tobio grumbles.

Tsukishima regards him with a sigh. Two swift seconds later, he throws the man a bag. It rustles in Tobio's hands. The hood of sweater peers at him in tawny.

"It's..." Tobio inspects the time. "Just a sweater?" The same sweater dress Tsukishima is wearing.

His confusion earns him a proud huff.

"Wear it." The blonde instructs. "It's a good thing I bought a spare."

"I can't -"

Tsukishima silences him with the click of his tongue. His picks up his pace, heeled boots stomping as he passes by the entryway. "Hurry up. I'll wait for you outside."

And with one last glance, he shuts the door. Tobio's objections leave just as quickly as Tsukishima's entrance.

Yet again, he finds himself unable to decline. Yet again, he finds himself in a place too fancy for his liking, with a cup in his hand and two other men for company. Tsukishima Kei, Tobio learns for the third time, is irresistible. Sometimes, Tobio doubts there ever will be a time he can deny Tsukishima.

But he is here now. Tsukishima has already (re)introduced him to Akaashi-san and a less discreet guy named Daishou. Tobio has no time to refuse. He hardly knows the two, but he is sure to trust Akaashi-san more. Not that Daishou was inhospitable in any way. He was quite the opposite, really. Daishou, in the first five minutes Tobio has known him, is a brazen flirt. There is not a bone in Tobio that believes the man's flippant questions to be anything but unoffending.

"Say, Tobio. Aren't you a little too young to be living in this kind of city?"

That wasn't true. A lot of kids come to Austen. Some even go alone. Like Tobio.

"I'm 18." He corrects.

"Yeah? My bad." Daishou chuckles. He runs a hand through his hair. "So you're the same age as Kei then?"

"Yes." Tsukishima and Tobio chorus.

Daishou hums excitedly. He leers at Tobio's thighs. "You even wear the same clothes." Long nails tap against the table. "Same colour of shoes too. Both pale, with red lips -"

"Stop being a creep." Tsukishima yanks the man by his ear. Daishou whines petulantly at his disapproval. When he fails to see a smile on Tsukishima's face, he begins to settle down.

"Come now, babe. You don't have to be jealous~" Daishou lowers his head, his leers now pinned on Tsukishima alone. He whispers something into the other's ear, probably to coax the other into smiling. There's something intimate about the way he does it with Tsukishima. He holds the blonde's fingers like a lover would and he talks to him with a honeyed tune.

Tobio is grateful to have claimed the better seat. Across. Close but far enough to be safe. Tobio wishes it was just the three of them. No Daishou to disrupt a placid, amicable lunch.

"Ignore him."

Tobio bites down a yelp as Akaashi-san leans into his space. He schools his expression to a more stoic one, more than aware of the lewd gaze pinned on him.

"He won't let me," He mumbles politely.

Akaashi-san gives him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry you have to deal with him. He's an asshole."

"You don't like him?" Tobio pries.

Akaashi-san grimaces, he lowers his voice to the same timid volume as Tobio's. "I hate him. I don't even know why Kei is dating him."

Tobio's limbs straighten. "They're together?"

"Surprising isn't it?" Akaashi-san asks. He thumps his back on the seat's leather covers, his jabs loudening, "Kei has such bad taste in men."

Daishou picks up on the insult and squawks at Akaashi-san indignantly. For a moment Tobio thinks the man is going to drop his eerie smile. But it only grows wider, as if nothing could please him more than a direct jeer cast his way.

"Akaashi-san, you're so mean to me~" The man begins to sing. "What can I do to ever get your approval."

"You will never get it." Akaashi-san replies dryly. There's an ache in his words as he turns to Tsukishima. His voice amplifies to cut through the dizzying atmosphere. "Are we going to order anything or not?"

Tsukishima sighs, agitated. Something about the whole interaction has Tobio guessing this isn't the first near-disagreement between the two. 

"Daishou-san, why don't you order the drinks for us?" The blonde stresses each pause with a dead inflection. Daishou, who had been grinning immodestly, exhales a derisive groan.

"Always playing the good guy, Akaashi- _san_. Now you even got Kei to side with you." Daishou drawls the other's name. A subtle mock. "I wanted to talk to Tobio-chan more. Kei really likes to hide his pretty friends from me, doesn't he?"

"Don't call me that." Something bristles in the air. Tobio sits more upright.

"Feisty, aren't we." Daishou imitates a growl. He swipes a tongue on his lips, elbows wide atop the table's brink. "I heard you're Oikawa's boytoy for the month. How'd that turn out for ya? Was he any good?"

"Daishou." Finally, Tsukishima speaks. His face remains aloof but the pressure of his stare _abrades_. "Get the drink."

"Come on now, babe. I just wanna know how little Tobio caught such a big catch." Daishou jokingly slaps a hand on Tsukishima's thigh. It echoes faintly, deadened only by the thick cloth of his sweater. Tsukishima does not recoil even as the hand sneaks beneath the layer of fabric. Tobio closes his own legs out of instinct, tugging on the brim of his sweater dress.

"Neh, Tobio. Is it because you're a virgin?"

Akaashi-san locks his jaw. "That's enough, Daishou-san. Tobio-san is Kuroo-san's cousin."

"Kuroo? Really?" Daishou perks up. "Huh, I wonder why Kuroo never hooked us up together. He always has the best _supply_."

Tobio hisses. "Kuroo-san isn't like that." Kuroo-san is impulsive and outrageous. But he is _nothing_ like the man.

Daishou seems to think otherwise. He smirks, head lolling, "Oh, you're so pure Tobio. This must be why Kei didn't want to talk about you. Just when I thought he and I were finally advancing our relationship, he went on the extra mile to hide you from me. I even had to invite myself today."

"Why didn't you just stay behind?" Akaashi-san puts his drink down with a heavier force. The malice hidden in his gesture reverberates. Tobio hears his ears ring in apprehension. Akaashi-san is talking slowly now, more ominous than before. "You knew you this was just me and Kei's thing -"

"I'm his boyfriend."

"And yet you weren't invited."

"Now, now Akaashi-san. Just because Kei chose me over you doesn't mean you have to act like a petty bitch."

"You -"

"I'm leaving." Tsukishima gracefully stands up from his chair. He casts a dark glance towards the two, freezing the tension with just the fall of his lids. "You guys have yourselves a good lunch but I'm taking Tobio with me."

"Kei-"

"Babe -"

Tobio feels the drag before he realises he's being pulled. He almost withdraws but one look at the gawking pair and he reels from the foreboding unease. For once, Tobio is thankful for not protesting.

🌹

When Tsukishima brings him to his apartment, a spacious place with lofty ceilings and tidy corners, the first thing he offers him is,

"Beer?"

Tobio sucks a breath in. Sweat dribbles on his forehead. "For lunch?"

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. "I have some chicken in the fridge." He slides a bottle towards Tobio's end of the counter, cap sweltering. "Live a little Tobio."

Tobio bites on the inside of his cheeks. Playing with the peeling label of his beer, Tobio contemplates on the rationality of his decisions. Ten seconds and he tipples the drink without a second thought. Tsukishima mirrors his action, more accustomed to the sting of the liquor.

They repeat the same motion until the clock ticks to its 12th hour. Tobio peers at the smudge of lines. He counts, thirty minutes and he will finish the drink, send his thanks, leave and never talk about the disastrous lunch to Kuroo or anyone. His plan is deterred only a minute later when Tsukishima says, unexpectedly,

"You should shave."

Tobio parts his lips with a pop. "What?"

"Your legs." Tsukishim points below.

Tobio's face crinkles. "I don't think I need to -"

Within seconds of no respite, like a gust of wind no faster than the run of an accelerating train, Tobio gets yanked to another room. It hosts a brighter wall, a carpeted flooring and porcelain furnishings. Tsukishim makes him sit straight into the hollow tub. He follows soon, but not before stripping himself bare.

"Strip."

Tobio reddens at the demand. "That's unnecessary - wait! _N-no_ , stop that!"

The sweater slides easily off of Tobio. Tsukishima casts the cloth aside. In three seconds time, the showerhead sprinkles, rendering Tobio a soaked mess. He struggles to stand, floundering in the tub and nearly slipping every time. When the water finally quells, and all Tobio hears is the sick, breathless laughter of one Tsukishima Kei, he splashes water towards his way.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Tsukishima attacks him with a splash too, flushed from all the cackling. "You...look like a fucking _idiot_."

Tobio stops momentarily, flagged by the jingle of genuine delight. His breathing slows and so do the words. All he does is gape at Tsukishima. Damp, happy, closed-eyes Tsukishima.

"What?" The blonde's giggling fit quavers and the silence comes back with vengeance. Regretful, Tobio inwardly smites himself with a hammer.

"I...didn't know you could laugh like that."

Tsukishima flares his nostrils, a transparent imitation of a pompous brat. "Well, now you know." He says, humour still in his eyes. A shave appears before Tobio's sight before he could comment again. Tsukishima pulls him by the ankle, choking on a snicker as Tobio screeches from the sly attack.

"Don't move, you'll wound yourself."

Tobio watches on as Tsukishima slathers his shin with soap. The foams bubble, emitting a scent so close to his hometown's fresh, strawberry gardens. Bit by bit, the blade inches closer to his knee. Tsukishima draws on a strip, lifting with it little hair. Having settled down to the serenity of the quietness, Tobio decides to take the risk and asks,

"Does Akaashi-san really like you?"

Tsukishima wavers. Then he moves the blade again, flicking his wrist flawlessly. "He tried to kiss me before."

Tobio clears his throat. "Oh."

Another bare strip. Tobio's skin glimmers.

"We were drinking that night." Tsukishima continues. "Just the two of us. He called me saying he wanted to tell me something. Told me he liked me and then he kissed me."

Tobio heeds to his words, lungs constricting. "Did you...kiss back?"

"No. He was just a friend." The response comes immediately. Tsukishima sags. With all the droplets dribbling on his skin, Tobio could see the barest peek of tired lines on his face.

"I slapped him in the face. He tried to apologize. He thought I felt the same way just because I dance with him more than I do with the other guys." Tsukishima taps the shave on the tub's rim. The blade jangles in his hold. "We agreed to never talk about it again."

"But you're still hanging out with him."

"I hang out with a lot of people."

"Even the ones you don't like?"

Another strip. Tsukishima scoops up enough water to wash the soap away. Without a hitch, Tobio slides closer, offering his thigh.

"If there's one thing you should know about this place, it's that you're never really friends with anyone."

"You're my friend." The words come before the thoughts. Tobio mentally smacks himself again. He waits for the consequence, readying himself for a cold, caustic, silent rejection. Maybe the other will laugh at him or dismiss him- pretend he didn't hear any of Tobio's stupidity.

But Tsukishima does neither.

"I was fifteen when I came here." Tsukishima starts. "I had a shitty hometown just like everybody else. Then I met someone, said he'd help me, show me around Austen. Y _ou can come live with me Tsukki, I'll take care of you Tsukki -_ he had a pretty face, didn't seem like the type to screw people over." Tsukishima halts to stare at Tobio, never once blinking. His drag is heavier.

"He said he was a friend."

The blade presses on Tobio's skin as if to _peel_.

"Fucking bastard tried to take advantage of me."

Fleetly, the blade slips. Tobio hisses at the pressure, a pinch of blood seeping out his thigh. He tries to detach himself from the hold, but Tsukishima keeps his heel planted on his leg.

"They're all the same," _Kei_ says, chin down. He doesn't face Tobio. "All of them."

Tobio forgets to breathe as blood trickles on his knee. They spread on his shin, like veins out of their layers. Just as they drip, right into the flow of the water, _Kei_ dips a finger and dabs the scarlet tint on his lips.

"You're gonna hurt yourself if you trust so easily, Tobio."

A ghostly gold twinkles at Tobio. The same finger taints Tobio's lips with blood.

"This is a den for wolves. Sooner or later you won't be pure, guileless Tobio anymore."

Kei lights a cigarette as five fingers crawl on Tobio's hips. Smoke invade his lungs and blows Tobio the half of it.

Solace haunts the air and Tobio spends the rest of the afternoon catching his breath.

🌹

Tobio comes home limping. The sting of a deep cut weighs on his stride. Red no longer paints him. But Tobio still scrubs on his lips. He doesn't understand why his wound feels more painful than it should. He doesn't understand why his knees tremble when he treads on the stairs. 

Tobio doesn't understand why he feels like crying.

There's a pile of rocks at his very core, where his heart would have been beating normally. Tobio grips on his shirt a little tighter. He dreads the moment the rocks come toppling off their high stack and glue him to the ground. Because Tobio does not understand anything when it comes to Kei. And he needs to understand before Kei's words catch up to him and he's left a festering soul - just as he promised, just as he anticipated.

Tobio feels as if there are eyes around to watch him be corrupted. He shudders at the thought and scrubs more forcefully on his lips.

What stops him is the chatter from behind the entrance of his apartment. Tobio clears the tear tracks. Wind preys on his last sniffle and Tobio wipes his face clean with the same tawny sleeves. 

"Tobio?" Kuroo-san meets him. Cream droops on his temple. A black apron ties itself to his hips. The man wears his comely grin but there is more sparkle in his eyes. Kuroo-san is the exact opposite of Tobio's despondent spirit.

"Hey," Kuroo-san ruffles his hair, brows creased. "You okay?"

"Fine." Tobio forces a smile. It comes off awkward, similar to the ones Bokuto-san deems unintentionally atypical. _You smile funny_ , he'd always say to Tobio. Kuroo-san buys his false act and lets him in with the lean of his shoulders to the side. Finally out of the view, Tobio sees the kitchen's clutter. Bokuto-san stands at the centre of the disarray, Akaashi-san not far behind.

"We were trying to bake a cake," Kuroo-san explains to him, sheepish.

"Cake?" Tobio blinks. "What for?"

"For Kei's birthday!" Bokuto-san beams. He waves at Tobio, spotted mittens on each hand.

Tobio furtively shrinks at the mention of the blonde's name. He ducks from Bokuto-san's approaching hug, opting to flee to the counter's less disorganised area. It is unfortunately close to Akaashi-san's seat.

"We plan on surprising him this Saturday." Akaashi-san adds nonchalantly. His mouth is fixed into a thin line. Tobio just about tries to eschew the worries away, desperate to keep himself composed.

Akaashi notices though. He seems like the type to always know things. Something pricks at Tobio's chest, pounding.

"I'm sorry." The man says. His volume is a silky delicate mumble. The kitchen's clanging could effortlessly drown it. But Tobio has already readied himself to hearken to whatever the man wants to tell.

"It's okay."

Akaashi-san shakes his head, lashes fluttering elegantly. He's just as beautiful, perhaps even more than most of the people in Austen. "It was rude of me to ruin lunch for you. I didn't mean to start a fight it's just -"

"You don't think Daishou is good for him?"

The man slumps on the island's rounded edge. He leans an elbow, jaw on his palm. "Kei has a bit of a habit. He's not really one to fall in love but he dates anyway. Even the ones he doesn't like."

Tobio fiddles with his fingers. "Why does he do that? Why does he keep people around when they don't even matter to him?"

"Ever wondered why there are so many kids in the club?"

Tobio sinks in his seat, perplexed.

"They're all lonely." Akaashi-san raps his knuckles on the glass surface. "Snobbish kids with too much time in their hands but little purpose in their life - that's what Austen is for."

 _Is Kei lonely too?_ Tobio wants to ask. He wets his lips and relishes the parchedness. "Are you?"

Akaashi-san hums, unconfident. "Maybe." He confesses. "But...with them, it's a little bearable here."

The man says with humour. Tobio knows better than to dismiss the seriousness in his jive. Not when he stares at Kuroo-san and Bokuto-san like _that_. Not when he _smells_ of affection. 

The men on the stove continue to fumble around, unaware of his gaze. They prance in their aprons, cream on their faces, a crumbling cake on their hands - and despite the scribbled letterings on the dessert's untidy layers, Tobio finds that it's made of love.

"Kei says the people in this place are all the same."

Akaashi-san breathes out a fleeting chuckle. He answers knowingly, "Doesn't mean everyone is looking at him the same way."

The plate caves. Another cake splatters on the ground. From the distance, Bokuto-san wails in exasperation. Kuroo-san guffaws at his incoherent grousing, stuck between consoling him and ridiculing his dramatic cries.

Tobio is startled by the honest shake in Akaashi-san's laughter, followed by Bokuto-san's whimpers of disappointment.

"Stop laughing and help!" He yells. Then he points at Tobio, frown deepening. "You help too, Tobio! We have to perfect this or else Kei will cry."

"I don't think he's one to cry." Tobio mutters.

"Maybe." Kuroo-san snickers. He wipes a pink frosting on Tobio's nose. It's strawberry-flavoured. Sweeter than the overripe ones in his mother's garden. "But he sure is going to mock our cake to death. Best not to give him leverage right?"

"Is that really the only reason?"

Kuroo-san's smirk wobbles. He cards through his strands. His forehead glimpses. Tobio can see the plain sincerity in his gaze as he speaks.

"It's Kei. Why should there be any other reason?"

Tobio is thrown a box of cheese before he can respond. His movement teeters, anxious about a feeling he cannot name. He remembers, Kei in his tub, a sublime shade of blue, smoking a pack for the two of them. He's empty. So, _so_ empty. Without the drinks, he was a bore.

But Kuroo-san still likes him. _They_ all like him.

He whips a bowl of egg. The wound on his thigh burns with a threat.

 _"Don't you get it, Tobio?"_ Kei's voice whirls in his head.

🌹

The next time he sees Kei, he fails to withhold.

The next time he sees Kei, he takes his hand.

There are men. There is booze. There is dancing. Music ambles and shuffles and wanders - things repeat themselves again.

It has always been the case with Kei. Kei beckons him and Tobio complies. _Again and again and again._

This time, there is a difference.

Tobio is intoxicated. Drunker than he's ever been. His walk staggers and he slips each step. His words are scrambled and he sputters. The alcohol lurches in his stomach. It boils in his veins. In his bones. In his limbs, where he begins to slouch, a pliant wreck in the vastness of crimson mattress.

But then there are hands on him. On his waist. On his neck, nape, down the dents of his spine. Then he's facing Kei again but Kei isn't holding him. Someone else is embracing the man. Someone else is embracing Tobio. 

They're dancing in the sheets. Between bare-skinned bodies. 

Pillows are discarded on the floor. Clothes are strewn across. Limbs, stronger and tougher than Tobio will ever be, descend on his chest, along the frail lines of his stomach, around the rosy buds, perking up to meet every brush - not a tremor of shame. 

"Tobio-chan~ Loosen up a little." 

Loosen up. Spread your legs. Let the hands roam. Latch on his shoulders. Moan for his pecks. Don't hide your face. Show him more. _Wider. Wider. Wider_ -

Tobio obliges to all of it.

He grabs at the seams of his skin, clawing and gasping and hitching for every intrusion he feels. He bites on a hand, larger than his quaking ones, huffing and grunting and whining for each part of him uncovered. _Faster. Faster. Faster_ -

Tobio doesn't know why he's here. Tobio doesn't know what he's doing. 

Tobio– 

"Tobio." Kei calls to him. He's ruined. He's marred. His locks are tousled and his eyes water. He's pulled back by his elbows, arched so perfectly to the rhythm of pants and puffs. Shakily, he reaches out to Tobio. Tobio tangles their fingers and feels the dip of his weight. 

"Tobio." Kei calls to him. He hovers his lips. Scarlet. _Always_. And Tobio, for the brief repose, stares at Kei like he is his own reflection.

Kei inches his chin forward. Tobio meets his kiss. His lips are scarlet too. _Always._

– Tobio does _not_ want this.

🌹

"Tobio-chan?"

Tobio doesn't stop.

He leaves before dawn.

🌹

The next time he sees Kei, he is colder.

He holds his chin in that same high fashion, more condescending than ever.

Kei presents himself like the guiltless, unassuming man he tries himself to be.

Tobio abhors him for it. 

"Why did you do that?"

Kei tilts his head. His smile is coy. "Did what, Tobio?" Then with a giggly gasp, he skips. He only halts to glare at Tobio. "You did that to yourself. Don't tell me you didn't want it."

"You must have put something in my drink. Y-you did something to me, you -"

"But Tobio," Kei creases his brows, doe-eyed. "I didn't do anything. That was your choice."

No. No, it wasn't. Tobio didn't want it. Tobio didn't -

"You said you wanted it to be special. Wasn't Oikawa special, Tobio?"

No. That's wrong. He's wrong. Tobio didn't- 

"Don't worry. It’s only worse the first time. Next time-"

"It won't happen again." Tobio snarls.

Kei pauses. He hums, smile gone. "Next time, you're going to be just like me."

🌹

Tobio wallows in his misery for the rest of the evening. 

He wakes up to the smell of rotting cake.

It's Saturday. Tobio fails to remind Kuroo-san Kei already has men over.

For the rest of the week, Kuroo-san comes home a drunken mess. Tobio tends to him until he throws up sobbing.

They don't talk about Kei.

🌹

St. Clouds of Austen is a den for wolves. Tobio hates everything about the place. He hates the smoke. The pavements with slippery grime in their cracks. He hates the people. The parties. The predicaments and their inconveniences. Tobio was no risk-taker. And he hates himself for taking _this_ risk.

Tobio just hates everything and every -

"Tobio-chan?"

Tobio freezes at the voice. He fastens his pace, fists clenching on the strap of his bag.

"Tobio-chan, hey! Tobio-chan, wait a minute -"

A hand pulls him by the elbow. Tobio growls at the touch and yanks his arm away. 

"Do _not_ touch me." 

"Okay. I won't, I just...I, _uh_ -" Oikawa exhales loudly. "I need to talk to you." 

"We don't need to talk about anything. Now, if you'll excuse me -"

"Please wait!" The hands return on him. Tobio glares at them more sharply.

Oikawa flings his arms, as if burnt. He pockets them and runs after Tobio's strides. Each time Tobio hastens his step, Oikawa is just right behind. To and fro, their legs swing. Oikawa blocks a path, Tobio finds another.

"Just one minute." Finally, Oikawa intercepts the alleyway's entrance. The same fragrance breaches Tobio's nose. "Give me one minute."

Jaded from his morning lecture, Tobio momentarily relents. He folds his arm and narrows his eyes. "One minute. And then you leave me alone."

"What, are you a celebrity or something?"

Tobio scowls. He prepares to leave but is stalled again.

"I was just kidding!" Oikawa wails, frantic. Tobio can tell he's itching to grip on Tobio's elbows. "Listen, Tobio-chan. That night -"

"Never happened."

Oikawa winces at his words. "I - _uhm_ , okay. I get it, you don't want to talk about it. You might not even want to talk to me at all but, " The man struggles to continue as if the simple utterance of his next words could physically hurt him. Tobio looks on incredulously at the shy arch of his shoulders.

"I really want to talk to you."

Tobio parts his lips. There is something endearing about the desperate furrow of Oikawa's forehead. 

"You want to talk to me?" Tobio parrots. "Why?"

"I -you, _uh_ , listen I don't know either. I'm new at this and I usually don't run after people but -"

"I don't need to hear you brag."

"That's not what I meant! Just - _argh_!" Oikawa advances towards him, their distance only inches apart. Tobio readies his stance and stands more upright. Still, Oikawa towers over his height for a few good centimetres. 

"Go on a date." Oikawa says, eyes pinned on Tobio's. "With me."

"No." The response is immediate. "Your one minute is over. Goodbye Oikawa -"

"Give me an hour!" The man bellows. "Give me an hour and I promise to never bother you for the rest of your life. _Ever_." 

The offer is tempting enough to catch Tobio off-guard. He tarries a bit, lured. With a brisk pivot, he faces Oikawa again. He wonders if the decision he will take now will make his life better in the future. Tobio bets all his luck on the lacklustre clouds of Austen and dares to say,

"Fine." Tobio fidgets. "I'll give you one hour." 

The city remains a sombre place. But Oikawa could very well shine on it with the dreamy way he beams at Tobio.

He hops in contained elation, pulling Tobio back to the gloomy pavement. They end up before a stream of still cars. Oikawa's gaudy one stands out from the trail like a boastful brat. 

"What do you say, Tobio-chan?" He opens the door of the passenger's seat. "Wanna go for a ride?"

St. Clouds of Austen is a den for wolves. Tobio hates everything about the place. He hates the smoke. The pavements with slippery grime in their cracks. He hates the people. The parties. The predicaments and their inconveniences.

Tobio was no risk-taker.

But he doesn't hate himself for taking this particular risk.

(He learns much, much later on, that the risk was worth taking)

🌹

St.Clouds of Austen is still dismal. Tobio learns to find it a little more bearable.

*

The first time Tobio meets Kei, it’s in the obscure corner of his father's dingy tavern. A dainty rose amongst the grave of crumbling corpses.

 _"Tsukishima Kei."_ The flower tells him. _"Tell me Tobio, have you ever growled at a wolf?"_

 _"No."_ Tobio answers tersely.

The flower simpers, " _Want me to show you?"_

He accepts without thought.

At twilight, where the same music sings, the devil invites him for a leap. Tobio holds the hand of their temptation.

He lets go at the last second.

*

The last he sees of Kei, he poses an ugly, _ugly_ painting. His skin is marred, festering all over.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't know what this is either. But I just really adored playing with the theme of red lipstick. Also, this is also a blatant attempt to spread my Oikage agenda and pretty boy(s)! TsukkiKage religion. I hope to read your interpretations of the Tsukkikage dynamic in this one :>>


End file.
